


Old Times

by springburn



Series: The Thick of It mini-fics [32]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Chance Meetings, Conversations, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 17:31:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4844180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm Tucker unexpectedly runs into Nicola Murray.......it's been a long while.......</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Times

**Author's Note:**

> This is a pure conversation piece. Based on a prompt by Petersgal 
> 
> "Malcolm has to go to london for a book meeting and meets the new pm..nicola!!!!i know..nutz right..wonder how that would go..."
> 
> I wanted to write a piece which explores how much their roles are reversed, from the time of Goolding and before, to their lives now. How much each has gained and lost, and how it has affected them both.  
> It's not an exciting storyline but I hope it's interesting, and explores character, as I'd hoped.

OLD TIMES.

 

Book signings, interviews, photo shoots........par for the course now.   
Malcolm didn't particularly enjoy them, but they were a necessary evil.   
They always asked such personal questions, wanted to know about his private life, not about his book, wanted a titillating fact, a little snippet of goss........his hackles would instantly rise.  
More possessive of his existence outside of writing than he ever was during his political career.   
Only last week he'd threatened an injunction when pictures of Sam and the children at the park, were taken and due to appear in the 'Mirror.'   
Fucking press. Hyenas, the lot of them. Nasty grubby little whore mongers.   
Today was a little different.   
A signing in Waterstones, a lunch meeting, then into The Guardian for a chat with an old journo mate, with the idea of a quick photo, and a small piece to be published in conjunction with his paperback edition coming out. 

The lift door slid open on the fourth floor.   
A woman, closely followed by two security men, cannoned full pelt into him.......files and handbag flew into the air.   
Contents scattering in all directions.   
He bent to retrieve lipstick, compact, pens, a container of sweeteners, then glanced up.  
Nicola Murray!   
Their eyes met, hers wide with surprise, his with thinly veiled amusement.  
"Malcolm! Good God!"   
"Prime Minister!" 

She was evidently somewhat flustered, her face coloured, beetroot red.   
"Nicola Murray willingly entering a lift? How times have changed!"  
Malcolm gave a wry smile.   
"I......well......I have to.....um.......yes. Conquer the fear, that's what it's all about."   
She replied nervously.   
Holding the door as it began to close on her, she suddenly remarked....  
"Are you free later......? It's been a long time. A chat maybe? For old times sake?"   
Malcolm looked at her thoughtfully, as if weighing up whether he really wanted to talk to this woman, or whether he'd really much rather not.   
"I guess." He said, shrugging, tone unsure. "When?"   
"I'm free later, about an hour......come to Number Ten."   
"NO!" Malcolm's reply was sharp. "I'll come to Glenn's old office in Whitehall, you can come there. It's only round the corner for you. You can get me a pass."  
"Malcolm....I haven't time to swan around the corridors of Whitehall!"  
"Then I'll say cheery-bye. You'll not get me in that building ever again. Swore it to myself, long ago. I'll never go back."  
Her hand still holding the door, her expression changed, softened slightly, her eyes scanning him, top to toe.  
He looked different.   
Softer round the edges, slim, lean even but not gaunt, as he'd often looked in the past.   
Hair longer, grey curls, looked good on him.  
He wore a suit well, always had, but he seemed......handsome.   
How?  
She'd never in her remotest dreams thought of him as that. She'd never liked him much.  
Abrasive, abusive, always in her face, that's how she remembered him.   
Manipulative and controlling too, she thought him.   
Did a person change that much?   
"Okay, Malcolm, shall we say three? I have a window."   
He smirked.....once more, she thought.....that trace of amusement, playing across his features.  
"A window? I'll be sure to bring a cloth!"   
Then he was gone.   
Striding away with those long legs, purposefully down the corridor.   
Confident, sure, at ease with himself.   
She contemplated his retreating back view as the lift doors closed to. 

"Well! Here we are! This is nice!"   
Her former colleague leaned back in the leather chair, legs outstretched, feet crossed in front of him.   
An air of nonchalance.   
That little look, there it was again, barely stifled humour.  
"Coffee? I'll be mother!" She poured, and her hand shook very slightly.   
He was watching her intently, with those steely eyes. Flicking from cup to hand and back again.   
"You look well Malcolm."   
"I am well. Thank you. Very well." He steepled his fingers in front of his face. "You look fucking knackered!"   
"Why thank you!" She sat down heavily, cup and saucer carefully balanced.   
"Got what you always wanted though, eh? The big cahoney. Top job. The place where the buck stops, hey?"  
"Yes. I guess so. Did you vote for me?"   
"Me? Now Mrs. Murray, you know better than to ask a man about his politics."  
"So, you didn't then! I must say I'm surprised, given your past loyalty to the Party."   
Malcolm's face curled into a scowl. His eyebrows lowered, mouth twitching slightly. She'd hit a nerve.   
"I have no loyalty whatever......to anyone. Last time I looked the Party had just finished fucking me up the arse. Or have you forgotten?"   
"That wasn't me."   
"No? I seem to remember that you were in the queue, with your knife out, ready to stab Caesar. Yep......you were....along with all the other dick-wads."  
"I had to tell the truth."  
Malcolm's laugh rang around the room.  
"The truth? Please! Spare me. You're a politician. Politicians never tell the truth. This is me you're talking to, remember! Malcolm Tucker......King of Spin!"   
"Well, I'm sorry. For what it's worth, Malcolm. I am, truly. But you don't seem to be doing too badly on it. I must say."   
"I'm fine and dandy. But it's no thanks to you and the Party tossers."  
"How is Sam? And the children?"  
"Sam is well. And the kids are fine. Growing up fast."  
"I saw the pictures......destined for the Mirror.........before they were pulled.....your eldest little boy looks like you."   
"Wee Jamie......yeah! Chip off the old block! Brainy too."   
Malcolm's gaze focussed on a dreadful painting on the wall just behind Nicola's head.   
The ghost of a smile returning. Then he seemed to snap back into the room.  
"What about you.......James and the family?"  
"Oh......we're getting a divorce! But that's off the record. No one knows yet. I hope you'll keep it to yourself. Doesn't look good with the populace."   
Malcolm raised his eyebrows at the indiscretion.   
"I see.......The kids?"   
"Oh, you know, Ella's in America, the middle two are away at Uni and the youngest at school.   
I don't see them much these days."  
"Right."   
"When they're home, they go to James. Don't want to be with glummy mummy! Must be nice for you, though, being at home a lot....with your three little ones."  
"It is, yeah. That's the best part of it."  
"You don't miss it then? All this?" She waved her hand expansively.  
Malcolm took a sip of coffee and laughed again.   
Nicola could hardly equate this happy relaxed man with the Malcolm of old.  
"What do YOU think? Who'd want to work in the Fuck Office now? Not me that's for sure."  
"Forgive me, for saying Malcolm, but you seem so different......so.......I don't know what the word is......?"  
"At peace?"   
"Well, that wasn't what I was going to say, but I guess that covers it! And it suits you. It really does."   
"I left all that shit behind me, Nicola. I gave the whole shag show the middle finger. All the years I gave to it, all the spinal fluid I sweated, all the fucktards I dealt with day in, day out. The shit storms, the messes I had to wipe up.......I turned my back and said 'fuck the lot of you'.   
Mind you, I couldn't have done it without Sam. She's the reason I'm sitting here, now, talking to the Prime Minister, with my third book coming out, and really glad that I'm not busting my ball sack over the likes of you people anymore!"   
"Yes. Yes, you did. And you did the right thing. Getting out."  
"Ha! It wasn't a choice Nicola. I was fucked over. Finished. Politically anyway. Personally too.....for a while. Again, I have my wife to thank for helping me through that too."  
"You're a lucky man. Malcolm."  
"Fucking right I am. And no one knows it better than me. I could quite easily be sitting in the doorway of John Lewis with a mongrel and a can of Tennant's Extra."  
"I hardly think......."  
"Don't you? Well, I fucking do.......I was a fucking mess. Bit like you seem to be right now. No job, no friends, lost every ounce of self respect, and lost the respect of others too. A sodding pariah. That's what they made sure of. "  
"But it all came right in the end....."  
"Only because I happen to have a brother-in-law who's good with IT.........he was the one who spotted it. Then suddenly all the earwigs came crawling out of the woodwork. Amazing what people will say when their own arses are on the line."   
"I'm sorry all that happened to you."  
"No you're not Nicola! Any more than I'm sorry for engineering your demise as Party leader. Why can't you just be honest for once in your life? I doesn't matter to me now......it's all in the past.   
But you were shit. You were destroying everything I'd worked to build up, and making the Party unelectable. You had too much baggage and too many agendas, and you had to go.  
At the enquiry it was your chance to wreak your revenge. So you did.....together you fed me to the wolves. You all rubbed your grubby little hands together with glee, especially when the Tickel stuff came out. Couldn't believe your luck. I laugh when I think about it all now.   
Best thing that could possibly have happened to me."  
"Really? You can say that? Even after everything that went on? You're not bitter?"  
"Why should I be? I might have been angry, depressed, a bit lost.......then. But look what's come out of it? How can I regret that? I've got Sam, I've got my kids. I've got my writing, and I love that. It's what I was born to do!"   
Nicola sat back in the chair, draining her cup.   
She looked across at this man, seated opposite. His face open and honest, unburdened with the trials and tribulations that tormented his old self.   
Fulfilled, complete........happy for Christ's sake!   
She suddenly felt very sad, very sad indeed. When was the last time that she could say the same?   
He was right. He'd gained so much. So much. No wonder he was so content.   
She smiled.  
"You must be so proud of your family."   
Malcolm leaned forward and pushed his empty cup onto the desk in front of him.   
"It's down to Sam. She's the one. She's the glue that holds it all together."  
"I don't believe that for a moment Malcolm, you can't fool me......they are your pride and joy. You love your wife don't you? Your eyes twinkle when you speak of her."   
One hand resting against his cheek, elbow on the armrest, in an easy pose.........the other, she noticed, with fascination, in front of him, as his thumb bent under and across his palm to his ring finger, idly swivelling his wedding ring round and round.  
His glance lifted to her face slowly, and the little twitch of the mouth returned, his eyes softened, to such an extent that she almost had to look away.   
God......how many times had she seen him......so furious, raging, those same eyes, a burning fire.   
Now, they were the eyes of a man without fear. The fire still burned, but it was a warm glow, not a raging inferno.   
"She's just my Sam." He said simply, with a slight lift of the shoulders. "That's it. There'll never be anyone else. Not for me and I don't need anything else. Not anymore."  
"There aren't many people who can say that!"   
"Well. You've got your dream job. There aren't many who can say that either. You always wanted this.......didn't you? Now you've got it. You're head honcho."  
"I miss the family thing sometimes though.......the kids, James......it was all a bloody nightmare, when I was at DOSaC, trying to juggle everything. Something had to give, I suppose. Now I'm here. Doing this. I don't have the support network."  
"Well, you're doing a good job!"   
"Ha! Now it should be your turn to be honest! No, I'm not Malcolm, and you bloody know it! I'm doing a rubbish job. The unemployment figures are a disaster, Interest Rates are going up, and the economy is not growing at the predicted rate.....and a dozen other fuck ups, I could name. I'll probably be lucky to last the duration of this parliament."  
Malcolm poured them both more coffee, leaning over and handing her the cup.   
"Then why do it? Why don't YOU say 'fuck the lot of you' and ride off into the sunset. Take that Yale job, you were thinking of a few years ago, or something similar.....you always fancied academia? If it's making you so fucking miserable, what's the point?"   
"I'm seriously thinking about it. But I think I actually lack the bollocks to do it."  
"Then grow a pair, Nicola. I had to."  
"Yes. I guess you did. And I must say, the new Malcolm is quite a revelation!"   
"Oh fuck off! Don't try your politician spiel with me! It won't wash. I'm exactly the same as I always was, I haven't changed at all. You only think I have because of what I'm doing now, compared with then. My life may have changed, but I haven't, not fundamentally. And neither have you. Women always have to be much tougher in this game."  
"You're probably right. I suppose we don't really alter that much do we?"   
"Is that what this little tete à tete was all about then? You pumping me with life guru questions?   
Malcolm Tucker's Self Help Advice Centre?"  
"Perhaps. When I saw you, I was curious......intrigued......you might say. I guess I wanted to know your secret."  
Malcolm chuckled.  
"My secret? My secret is to be loved. That's my secret, I'm loved. And I never was before. Not by anyone, not by my father, my first wife, anyone. Now I am. That's Sam's doing. Took me a long time to believe it, get my head round it, yeah? But now I know. And it's all that matters. To me anyway. There's nothing more important. Once that faith is there, that trust......that's the key."  
"Gosh. That simple eh?"  
"For me, yeah. Money, job, power, possessions, they don't mean jack shit. Not if everyone fucking hates you. It's all just material.......being loved......that's what makes you wanna get up in the morning!"   
He rose from the chair, placing his cup back on the tray. Straightening his tie with his long fingers, buttoning his suit jacket. Collecting his things.   
"Jack it all in Nicola......that's my advice, if you feel as miserable about it as you look. Tell them to go fuck themselves. Find someone who'll care......or better still, go tell James you want to try again, go to counselling, or just fucking TALK to each other.......he used to worship the ground you walked on, chances are he still does.......give yourself a fucking break. You've been PM......you've got nothing you need to prove now. Just be loved yeah?"  
He held out his hand to her, but instead she came around the desk and kissed him on both cheeks.   
"I appreciate you meeting me Malcolm. Really. And I AM sorry about what happened, whether you believe me or not. It was shitty, what they did to you. What WE did to you."   
"You take care of yourself Nicola. Don't let them fuck you over too......cos, trust me, they will. And you'll never be the same again. Get out before that happens. Just for once, think about your own life, not the Party's. No fucker will thank you for it in the end. No one."  
He moved towards the door.   
"Give my regards to Sam, Malcolm.........she's a very lucky woman, truly she is."  
Malcolm smiled, unembarrassed.  
"Nah! I'm the lucky one."  
The door swung shut behind him, and he was away down the corridor. 

Fin.


End file.
